


Mr Sandman

by prettylittlepetticoats



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Enemies, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Evil Plans, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Lust, Manipulative Tom Riddle, POV Hermione Granger, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Tom Riddle, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Romance, Sassy, Slow Build, Smut, Time Travel, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:33:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24431410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettylittlepetticoats/pseuds/prettylittlepetticoats
Summary: 'Mr Sandman bring me a dream, make her the cutest that I've ever seen' Hermione lands in his lap, an accident and yet he calls her a gift. She should hate him, should recoil from his touch and yet it only takes weeks for her to fall, to become his, completely /ONESHOT
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 4
Kudos: 200





	Mr Sandman

**Author's Note:**

> so I discovered this couple about a month ago and I am officially obsessed. I have a wip for them called 'paradox' that will be updated soon so if you like the couple check that too, and another shorter wip called 'the greatest' too, I did say obsessed. 
> 
> hopefully you enjoy this, I really enjoyed writing it. credit to seph meadowes who's awesome tomione/sandman video gave me this idea.
> 
> songrecs: my sandman - SYML.

_'Mr Sandman bring me a dream, make her the cutest that I've ever seen…'_

He calls her a present, a gift from the future he wished to prevent. She had landed in his lap with the time turning evaporating around her neck as he went to touch it, with her robes proudly bearing the Gryffindor crest, with her expression of shock lasting longer than his.

He parried her first curse with a flick of his wand, laughed as her second strike was just as easily deflected, and finally freed her of her wand as he redirected the third. When she reached for her wand he laughed again, and as she tried to wriggle away from his lap his hands caught her waist and he held her steady, refusing to let her move, keeping her locked in place, on the lap of the Dark Lord.

"Where did you come from?" He asked and she snarled at him which made him smirk, a nasty cold smirk that could never have been mistaken for a smile. He didn't smile, not once, not ever. Only that mean smirk, often a neutral expression and rarely, so rarely, flashes of anger. He didn't betray his thoughts, not like she did. He was never emotional, never revealing, unless he smirked, though that could mean many things.

_'Give her two lips like roses and clover, and tell her that her lonely nights are over'_

"1997 huh? Well they certainly dress differently" He mused, eyes glancing down at her school skirt, and she spluttered in shock before she realised, she'd been staring at him and he had plucked the thought from her mind without her even knowing. Her occlumency had been useless in the face of his power, and oddly that made her twinge in a funny sort of way, which he smirked at again, that ever-present smirk, of course he had read that his power made her feel funny, of course he found amusement in it.

"Oh please" He said then, his grip tightening on her waist as he saw her eyes flicker away from him, preventing him that access to her head, "You are practically screaming your thoughts at me" At that she snarled again and that smirk was back. Honestly, the more he smirked the scarier it was, and he was already very, very scary.

"So, why are you here?" He asked bluntly, Harry had told her that Tom Riddle in his youth had been charming, charismatic and she could see it, she could, he was certainly handsome enough to drift through life captivating all who met him, but now he was blunt, smirking and unsettling her. He didn't try to charm her, though his rough grip on her waist and that piercing gaze she was trying not to meet did something to her, something she didn't want him knowing or plucking from her mind.

"As if I'd tell you" She snarled, her first words to him and that seemed to please him. He lifted his wand then and she didn't flinch, didn't draw back, even though she wanted to, instead she sat firm, glared at him and that seemed to delight him, which surprised her. Didn't sadists want to scare those around her?

"Well you are different" He said, gripping her waist a little harder, but lifting one hand to grasp her chin, to force her gaze to his, though he didn't seem to do so to read her mind, instead he grinned at her, "I like it"

* * *

_'Sandman, I'm so alone, don't have nobody to call my own'_

A week later and he still refused to give her, her wand back. He took her on strolls around the gardens of the Malfoy estate where he stayed, he laughed as she tried to take her wand from him (unsuccessfully), and he refused to leave her alone. She glared at him when he asked her about the future, and he threatened several times to pick her brain apart if she didn't soon do as he told her.

"Just try" She said furiously after he threatened such a thing one evening walk in the Malfoy rose gardens, "You might not like what you find"

At that his eyes flashed, he grabbed her waist, tugged on the awful period dress she'd been forced to wear, and his gaze met hers, she tried not to look at him, for her occlumency did nothing to keep him out but she couldn't help it. He caught her off guard, as he often did, and she found once he locked his gaze with hers, she was unable to look away.

"What wouldn't I like Hermione?" He asked, and she blushed at his words as his gaze never left hers, not many people back home had called her Hermione, her friends called her Mione, her frenemies Granger and enemies much more unsavoury things. But the way he said her name, like a caress on his lips but not in a loving way, instead in a possessive way … it made her shiver, and he knew it as he smirked down at her.

"Stay out of my mind" She growled and again he laughed, his fingers digging into her harder, as they often did when he was amused.

"But it is such a lovely mind" He said with a roll of his eyes and she hated herself for feeling a little warm at the compliment. She hated every non-adverse reaction to him, and they were becoming far too plentiful for her liking. She also hated that he knew all of her reactions to him, sure she tried to keep her eyes away from his, to deny him access, but when he wanted in, he got in.

* * *

_'Please turn on your magic beam, Mr Sandman bring me a dream'_

Two weeks later she asks for her wand back again and he pauses instead of refuses. She can see why, they share a bed (though she threatened to maim him if he stuck a toe over his side), they take meals together and walk in the garden. She doesn't talk much but she listens, and she can't help but find him interesting, can't help but hmm in accord when he talks about complex magical theory, can't help but debate him when he talks about potions theories and runes translations. His mind is truly brilliant, and she finds it hard not to pick it.

"You want your wand to attack me?" He asked then, one eyebrow raised as he turned to her. They were walking in the gardens again and Hermione shook her head at his question.

"Why bother, you'll stop me and take it back" He nods at that and then lifts her wand from his pocket. That makes her squirm a little and he smirks, of course he does. It is just that touching another person's wand, handling it is intimate, and she hates how profound it feels when he lifts her wand, wraps his fingers around it, she's sure if he casts a spell with it she might swoon, which would be pathetic, but unavoidable.

"I would" He said, but he turns the wand in his hand, to hand it back to her, "But you could put up more of a fight" He said with a grin and she splutters in annoyance.

"I do try!" She said furiously, and rather than taking back her wand she stepped forward and punched a hand into his chest. So, muggle of her, and yet he laughs as she does so, he often laughs at her lack of power in the face of him. She's seen him get angry, get bored, get annoyed by his growing pack of lackies but with her he is amused, he laughs, he is curious. Of course, it makes her feel special, even if she denies it to herself. "I do!" Another whack and he laughs some more, she goes for a third but he grabs her wrist. She finds herself laughing too at her own onslaught but as his gaze catches hers, she stops.

This is dangerous. She is stood here laughing with Lord Voldemort, such a thought makes her blood run cold and her smile abruptly falls. He rolls his eyes (as he often does) and holds her wand back out.

"If you can stop me taking it for one minute you can keep it" She nods immediately, she would never turn down a challenge, especially not from him, especially not for her wand. Gryffindor through and through, Gryffindors didn't say no to impossible odds, they tried to beat them.

She takes her wand back from him and as soon as the weapon warms in her hand she lashes out. Three strikes and he parries all three, he lashes back and she erects a shield that holds him off, he seems to like that, is even a little surprised, and she lashes out twice more, he blocks both but she blocks his next two as well.

"Stupefy!" She calls, a red-light shoots for him but he parries it.

"Have some imagination Hermione" He taunts, "And if you scream your spells at me it makes them easier to block" He instructed and she fired a non-verbal hex quickly, it even shakes his shield and she smiles triumphantly.

Her smile falls when he takes her wand from her a second later.

"38 seconds" He says with a grin, "Very good, wand well earned"

"But it wasn't a minute" She winces then, why would she point that out? Fair play was a poor Gryffindor trait and she can see the Slytherin in him mocking her. He doesn't though, instead he steps forward, places his hands on her waist (she doesn't bother shaking him off, not anymore, if she tries, he just grips tighter).

"I didn't expect you to last ten" He says, and it is her turn to roll her eyes. "You're good, very good" He places a kiss to her forehead then and she hates that she shivers in pleasure, feels warm rather than shivers in disgust and feels cold. He knows of course, and she leans in without meaning too, and he wraps his arms around her waist instead of grabbing her there, and she swears she doesn't mean to when she rests her head on his chest, curls into him a little. She'll berate herself later, but for the moment she just accepts it.

"Not as good as you" She notes with a frown, there are very few people who have heard that from her, she supposes she shouldn't be upset, he is Lord Voldemort after all.

"No one is" He said with all the arrogance that came with talent, "I can make you better" She smiles at that, for her mind would never turn down such an opportunity, as wrong as it is, as traitorous and evil as it feels, her curiosity would never deny her lessons from the Tom Riddle himself, not now, not here as he holds her so gently, too gently for a murderous psychopath she is meant to hate.

* * *

_'Mr Sandman, bring me a dream, make her the cutest that I've ever seen…'_

Two months into her little adventure in the 1940's and she still spends all of her time with him. They still sleep in the same bed; they still walk together and eat but they do more now, so much more.

He doesn't teach her in a way she'd ever been taught before. He doesn't instruct or demonstrate, instead he often stands behind her, guides her wand, grips her waist, encourages her. He speaks in her ear, and she shivers against him as he leads her. When she is learning his hands are gentle but when she masters something, he grips her harder and she trembles even more.

In the first few weeks when he had touched her, she had glared, recoiled but now she finds herself leaning into it, unable to resist. He knows that too, touches her more, even plants kisses on her forehead, her cheek, once her neck and she had near melted. She isn't sure what she'll do if he kisses her lips, she wants to resist, for Harry, for Dumbledore, for all the people Tom had ruined the lives of, and yet she knows she won't be able to, she won't be able to resist, and most of her doesn't want to.

She even calls him Tom now for goodness sake. She is too far gone, and after just two months. There is no way back to the future, she is trapped, she is stuck, and he knows it, uses it, and she knows she won't hold out for long, she doesn't want to.

"Good girl" He whispers in her ear as she wandlessley casts the little birds she can conjure so well. "Now vanish" His lips are at her neck now and she bites her lip hard enough to taste blood to stop herself whimpering.

With a flick of her hand the birds vanish, and she can't hold back the whine as his hands grip her waist harder. As he turns her in his arms to face him she knows what's coming, knows she should run, knows she should curse him, scream, refuse, she should, for those she had left behind, for those he would hurt, for those he would kill, and had already killed. She should turn away, now, now.

She doesn't.

* * *

_'Give her the word that I'm not a rover, and tell that her lonely nights are over'_

The kisses they share are always passionate, he's always rough, teeth scraping her lip, hands in her hair or at her waist bruising her. She gives it back, curls her hands in his dark locks, bites his bottom lip. He slams her against the wall, moves from her mouth to her neck, bites and licks and she whimpers, and whines and he smirks as he runs his hands down her back and pulls her closer, always closer, so close they could be one. .

One night they stand outside in light of the full moon, and he stands behind her as always, hands tender at her waist. She stands in his embrace as he directs her.

"Go on" He encourages her, "Do it"

She waves her hand, and wandlessley the flowers on the ground mature in seconds, bloom and die before her eyes, she grins to herself, she is getting better with each go at wandless magic, but she feels him shake his head as his lips find the shell of her ear.

"Now the other way" He whispers, and she shivers but shakes her head. At that he bites her ear lobe and she whimpers, "Now" He growls a little and she nods, waves her hand and the flowers on the ground, dead, begin to come back to life. It is hard and she feels her hand shaking, feels her head go a little dizzy. She only manages to bring back one, but she knows he is pleased as he grips her and turns her in his arms. She see's his expression, one of excitement and she knows just how pleased he is.

"Good girl" She hates that she feels so proud when he calls her that. She wonders if she has Stockholm Syndrome, if she's gone insane, there were any number of possibilities as to why she now leaned into him instead of recoiled, but she didn't want to think about the most obvious one.

"Don't make me do that again" She snarls at him and he quirks his head confused, but always smirking, of course he is, he finds her anger amusing.

"You don't like bringing things back to life?" At that she growls and he pulls her a little closer.

"I don't like necromancy" She says furiously, and he rolls his eyes.

"Don't be so dull" He kisses her again and all her thoughts are forgotten as he pulls her closer, moves to her neck, bites, and makes her moan. She is squirming against him as he pushes her against the stone pillar in the light of the moon and as he rucks up her skirt, she moans again but gathers enough of her mind to stop him, just barely enough though.

"Tom wait …" All the fire from seconds earlier is gone and she bites down nervously on her lip. "I…I'm a" She pauses and berates herself for being so childish, she is a grown woman, she shouldn't be so nervous." "I'm a virgin" What will he think? She won't take his mocking now, not with his hands on her thighs, it'll crush the defiant Gryffindor if he dares to mock her.

"Good" Is all he says and that is it. She's gone, long gone then, tipped over the edge finally.

He shoves her against the pillar, uses his clever fingers against her as he tugs her underwear aside. He doesn't even undress her or himself, just frees himself and lifts her skirts. He lifts her up, and she wraps her legs around his waist, not hesitant for a second, but desperate, wanting, inviting.

"Oh god" She whines as he rubs against her, as she feels the warmth in her chest and the wetness on her thighs. She is ready for him, and the tiny voice in her head that screams at her not to do it, that this is the man who had done so much wrong, who had ruined Harry's life, killed so many, had engineered a war against her and her loved ones, as that voice screams she silences it by kissing him hard.

And when he enters her, when she gasps in pain but is soon moaning in pleasure the voice is long silenced. As he fucks her, hard against the stone and she screams into the darkness of the night, as he speaks possessive into her neck, "I'm your first, and your last, your mine" He growls, "Mine, understood?" He growls and she nods, nods and sobs as pleasure crashes over her, "Say it" He demands, and she knows better than to refuse him.

"Yours" She sobs as the pleasure continues as he fucks her, as his thumb rubs against her, as she sees stars. She screams, and as she does, he groans into her, they fall to the floor after, don't bother to move and fall asleep beneath the twinkling stars. As he holds her possessively close, as she lets him and cuddles into him, she knows she is gone. There is no going back now.

_'Sandman, I'm so alone, don't have nobody to call my own'_

"Goodnight Tom" She murmurs against his neck, as sleep comes for her, as she falls asleep in the arms of her lover, in the arms of the man she loves, in the arms of the man she should want to kill. But she doesn't, she doesn't at all, and he knows it.

"Goodnight Hermione" He places a kiss to her forehead, and she nods a little before falling asleep. This had gone all wrong, she had been thrust back in time to right some wrongs, even though she hadn't meant to do so. She had come back by accident, a happy accident he called it, and yet she had done nothing to stop him. To stop Lord Voldemort. Instead she'd fallen in love with him, with Tom Riddle, she was his.

And yet, it felt right, it felt good, and that was the worst part of all.

"Mine" He had said and without hesitation she had agreed. She was gone, fallen, his completely. And yet, he was also hers, and perhaps that was enough.

_'So please turn on your magic beam, Mr Sandman, bring me a dream'_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> thoughts? this is intended as a one-shot, will be doing more in this style though. hope you enjoyed!
> 
> if you like this pairing check out my story 'paradox' which is a multi-fic tomione that I am so excited about.
> 
> pls let me know whatcha think, comments are always appreciated
> 
> speak soon


End file.
